


weil du ohne liebe bist

by BlueFlameBird



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Awkwardness, Bush Medicine, Color Blindness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other, and team bonding, as they are only mentioned in passing, basically expiration date, but from snipers pov, its more of a bushmedicine fic, lots of friendship - Freeform, side pairings are scout/miss pauling and spy/scouts mom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-14 14:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFlameBird/pseuds/BlueFlameBird
Summary: in which those final 72 hours they have to live, Sniper tries to get over his awkward fear/affection for medic and convince him to go on a date with himpreviously titled the bushmed version of expiration date because thats what it is, even though no one asked for it





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im surprised no one tried to do this yet. i meant for this to be a one shot. it got out of hand
> 
> the title translates to "you are without love"
> 
> thank you tokio hotel xD

“AH! Sniper! There you are!”

Sniper jumped minutely. It wasn’t that he didn’t know someone was behind him, he _always_ knew when someone was behind him.

Well...maybe not always if that person was the bloody spook, but that's besides the point.

It was _who_ was behind him that made him jump. He always seemed to have this effect on the Sniper, turning him from a calm professional to a jumpy and twitchy idiot. Both from fear and awkward affection. This time it was the latter.

Sniper forced his expression to calm indifference, hoping the flush on his face went as quick as it came, before he turned to face the Medic, setting his #1 Sniper mug on the counter gently.

Being a sniper meant he was naturally able to take in the fine details of something or someone. It was a habit he had trouble keeping in check even when he wasn’t peering through a scope. Medic was just as sharp, despite the glasses, so he knew by the quirk of Medic’s brow that the German saw the flinch, but wouldn’t question it unless he felt it was something that had to be addressed in the infirmary.

It also meant he was able to take in the Medic’s appearance in surprising detail. Medic always looked like a regal figure, probably due to the coat and the way he held himself. His hair was always neat and tidy, shoulders squared, chin up. Compared to Sniper’s own casual slouch and rugged appearance, Medic wasn’t just impressive, he was attractive.

Medic’s eyes were a grey-blue. Icy and cold with just a touch of his usual madness. Was it weird to think another man’s eyes were pretty?

...And those pretty blue eyes were looking at him expectantly. Piss, he was taking too long to answer. Sniper suddenly felt vulnerable without his hat and glasses. In fact, he didn’t even have his vest or glove. He was going to try and sneak in, grab some coffee and food, and sneak back out unseen. Obviously it didn’t work.

The common room was messy, but Sniper and Medic were the only ones there. There was a half finished plate on the table (probably Scout’s), a coffee mug (Heavy’s), an ashtray filled with cigars (Soldier) and cigarettes (everyone else, mostly Spy). The stove had used pans on it and the sink was filled with mugs and plates. But the coffee machine, mercifully, had just enough to fill Sniper’s mug and was still running, so the coffee was still warm.

“G’day, doc.” He replied automatically. “Sorry mate, I thought everyone left for the day’s mission.Was jus’ gettin’ a cup of coffee.”

If Spy was here, he would have rolled his eyes at the obvious excuse. But Medic simply gave him a look that said he knew the Sniper was lying but wasn’t interested enough to push it.

Medic got right to business. “Yes, well. I apologize if I startled you. Engineer and I are experimenting on the teleporter and- gah, it will be much simpler if you follow me. Shall we?”

Sniper hesitated. Usually Medic’s experiments were either painful, weird, or both. But he trusted Engineer to keep Medic’s... _enthusiastic curiosity_ in check. With a mental sigh of defeat, Sniper gulped down his coffee and set his mug in the sink. He made a mental note to grab and return it to his van before the other, more rambunctious team members returned and broke it.

“Sure thing, mate. Lead the way.”

Satisfied by the answer, Medic smirked, turned on his heel and practically skipped towards his lab. The corridors of the base were an unforgiving gray concrete. In the middle, true to the teams color, a thick faded red line and then a thinner, brighter line of red right under it. The rooms themselves were a cream color, but with a the same red stripes. Only the bedrooms, showers and Spy’s smoking room were different. Sniper always figured it was to remind them that no matter how close the team could be, they were still mercenaries fighting a pointless war.

Right now to the sniper, all the red looked like a tainted yellowish-gray, and he tried not to be bothered by it. He could still see the exact shade of blue Medic’s eyes were without his glasses, so he couldn’t complain.

Sniper easily followed the doctor, trying to trail behind as he normally did but Medic matched his pace stride for stride, keeping them next to each other in silence until Medic broke it.

“Certainly is peaceful without Soldier and Scout making a mess, _ja_?”

Sniper chuckled and nodded. One thing he noticed was that all the supports liked their silence. Sniper was reserved and usually came and went as he pleased. Spy avoided the others like the plague unless he was in either a good mood, or wanted to creep around and be nosey. Medic could usually be found in his lab or, if he was feeling up to it, in the common room practically glued to Heavy. While Medic was the more sociable of the supports, the only ones he seemed to enjoy being around were Heavy and Engineer, as they were able to keep up with his mad genius. And sometimes Spy but Sniper shuddered to think about what they would find as a common interest to talk about.

Sniper usually found a good conversation in Demo, or even sometimes liked to bother Spy with Scout, but he usually enjoyed his own company. Spy was, ironically, the closet thing he had to a friend. Sniper always chalked it up to the fact Spy may have been a back-stabbing spook, but he normally meant well and was a good listener when he stopped complaining or insulting him long enough.

It didn’t mean Sniper didn’t care about his team, because he did, he just liked to watch them from afar rather than be involved in all the ruckus.

“Feels like a bloody ghost town without ‘em. I keep expectin’ the lil ankle biter to come runnin’ down the halls, or for the spook to try and scare the piss outta me.”

It was the doctor’s turn to chuckle as he clasped his hands behind his back. “If memory serves, the last time Spy caught you off guard, you nearly beheaded him. I had to spend almost half an hour dealing with his whining even though the Medigun took care of it in minutes.”

Sniper winced, an embarrassed flush crossing his face. He remembered that well. He guiltily hovered by the doors to the infirmary, listening to the annoyed French and pissed of German being tossed back and forth. While he was fluent in English, when Medic got pissed, his accent got thicker and half the times the team didn’t know if they were being yelled at in German or heavily accented English. It was a detail Sniper found endearing when he wasn’t the one being snapped at.

“Yeah, sorry about that, doc.”

“ _Nein._ Spy should know better than to sneak up on someone who gets backstabbed on a near daily basis. By another Spy, no less.”

Sniper didn’t have an argument against that, so he shrugged in silent agreement.

“Although,” Medic continued. “It is nice to see you out of your camper for once and in the facility.”

At Sniper’s curious and questioning eyebrow raise, Medic tilted his head to the side, as if thinking of the words to say. “Well, us not being around each other on the battlefield is one thing, given the nature of our specialties and classes. But you are hardly even in the base. Even I, for all my for all my workaholic tendencies, know the importance of time off and team bonding. You, on the other hand, are almost never around. And while I do understand the need for privacy and solitude, _especially_ because of the teammates we have, sometimes I can’t help but wonder if it’s best for you to stay in - and these are Spy’s words, not mine - that “filthy camper” of yours.”

Sniper bristled, the embarrassed flush returning to his face, which just annoyed him more. He was a grown man, he shouldn’t be so flustered! “It is NOT filthy, that bloody mongrel!”

Medic bursting into laughter was unexpected, but welcome. It wasn’t his maniacal laughter either, the one he does when he’s slicing someone’s neck open. No, this one was genuine. It was pleasing and  managed to make something in Sniper’s chest skip. The Doc honestly sounded like a giggling dork, even snorting once or twice, but Sniper found it to be the most charming sound he’s heard yet.

The blush remained on his face, but for a different reason now.

Medic wiped an invisible tear from his eyes, sighing happily once he managed to catch his breath.

Medic must have taken Sniper’s embarrassed flush and refusal to meet his eyes as offence. “Ah, I’m sorry, Herr Sniper.” He didn’t sound sorry at all, just amused, but Sniper let it go, finally getting his embarrassment under control long enough to send the doctor a glare that lacked any sort of heat.

Medic continued, grinning and thoroughly unfazed by the glare. “Honestly, you should see the infirmary after a bad day. I’m sure for all your Jarate and Bushman tendencies, it doesn’t hold a candle to blood and guts everywhere.”

Medic’s grin went from good-natured to sadistic so fast Sniper had to forcefully stop the shudder that threatened to run through his body.

Before Sniper could grace that with a response - and defend his dignity - a muffled greeting redirected both his and Medic’s attention.

Pyro waved at them from in front of the Lab, Engie holding the door open as if he just answered.

Sniper was kind of weary of Pyro. It wasn’t enough to stop him from headshotting anyone within his crosshairs that would’ve gotten the jump on them. He was a professional, after all. But while everyone seemed to accept and be used to Pyro, Sniper really didn’t know how to deal with it.

He didn’t grow up with many people around him, just his parents, so he barely knew how to deal with normal people, and Pyro, like the rest of them, was far from normal. Sniper settled for awkward greetings and nods, and Pyro seemed more than happy with it. But Sniper would rather give Pyro space than to be on the other end of their flamethrower.

Luckily for him, being alone in his nests usually meant he was as far away from the BLU Pyro as possible, and almost never had contact with them. The RED Pyro, however…

It was during one of their tougher matches. Sniper had to leap out of his nest, courtesy of the BLU Soldier trying to revenge kill him for headshotting the BLU Demo, who had gotten too close to Medic for comfort. While the rocket had missed him, the fall and the resulting explosion was enough to give him bruises and shrapnel stuck in his side. Sniper knew his Medic was a bit aways, healing their Soldier and chewing him out for his carelessness and getting Heavy killed, so he didn’t bother calling him.

That was nothing new.

Instead, he gripped his SMG and dragged himself behind a rock, where he was sure there was a medikit there. He knew he probably should have been paying more attention, but the sight of the Medikit made him forget to watch his own back in the promise of relief to the pain in his side. He cursed himself when the tell-tale sound of the BLU Spy’s cloaking device was heard and he appeared behind him, knife already raised with a condescending smirk on his face. It was instinct for him to go for his Kukri, despite Sniper knowing the enemy Spy would have sent him through respawn before it did any good.

But then the BLU Spy froze, going still and face going pale in pure, unadulterated fear. Sniper’s surprised “Holy dooley!” was drowned out by the Spy’s blood curdling scream as Pyro - RED Pyro, thank God - stepped from behind Sniper and burned the BLU Spy to death. The smell of burning flesh nearly made him regret eating breakfast, and Sniper almost felt sorry for the Spy - almost.

Pyro muffled a question and Sniper numbly nodded, figuring it was a question to whether or not he was ok. Pyro seemed satisfied though, and with a thumbs up, skipped away to where Engineer was setting up a sentry. It took Sniper a second to gather himself, another to grab the Medikit and patch himself up, and then another to decide on another nest. As his Kukri dripped with his BLU counterpart’s blood and he helped himself to the leftover nest and ammo, Sniper made a mental note to never get on Pyro’s bad side.

Curious, Sniper had asked his own team’s Spy what he thought of the BLU Pyro, but all he got was a stiff “Drop it, Bushman.” He didn’t bring it up again after that.

“Well if it ain’t Sniper. Fancy seeing y'all in the base, Stretch.”

Engie’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and Sniper nodded.

“No one’s here to bug me.”

“Yeah well, let’s get to work before they get back then, yeah?”

Engie addressed him, but the Texan was giving the doctor a look behind the goggles. One Medic ignored with practiced ease and stepped passed Sniper, motioning him to follow before he suddenly remembered his nerves and bolted out of the medical wing.

It was when Medic grabbed a box from Pyro that he realized they were even carrying anything.

Being around the doc was already throwing him off.

“So now that you both are here, we need your help moving our equipment from my lab to Engineer’s workshop, _bitte_.” Medic stated.

Sniper exchanged a look with Pyro, and Medic sighed. “Normally I’d ask Heavy and Demoman but neither of them are here, so you two will have to do.”

Sniper tried not to be a little offended. Anyone could weight train, but he doubted anyone else on the team had the patience to focus through a scope for hours on end for the perfect headshot. Or take down 3 BLUs in perfect succession. And Sniper was slim, but he wasn’t weak!

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Sniper watched as Pyro shrugged and made a move to begin helping. Sniper followed suit, grabbing a tool box that weighed more than he thought it would. Engineer’s workshop was on the other end of the base, mostly because the Medical Wing was tucked into a corner of the base. It would take a few trips to transfer everything they needed there.

Sniper wasn’t one to complain though, and the physical labor was bearable, so he simply got to work.

Between the four of them, it didn’t take much time to move everything. Sniper even had the sneaking suspicion that Medic and Engineer didn’t really need the help, just didn’t want to do all the work themselves.

As Sniper and Pyro set the last of Engineer’s tools and Medic’s notes down, Engineer got to work, turning on a pair of teleporters with a smirk on his face.

Medic studied them with a sharp eye, before turning to Engineer and pouring over the blueprints. Usually, Medic and Engineer weren’t keen on anyone being in their labs, but they seemed to either have forgotten Sniper and Pyro were there or just didn’t care.

So Sniper took the chance to tune out what Medic and Engineer were talking about (he wouldn’t admit he didn’t understand most of what they were saying, anyway) and looked around. Disturbing either one of them in their labs usually meant being hit by a wrench or being subjected to experimentation, so Sniper was going to take advantage of the situation.

Medic’s lab was something he’s only seen once or twice. Medic barely tolerated their presence in the infirmary, let alone his lab. But there was once he had to get the doctor after Pyro accidently set their dinner ablaze and Demo drunkenly got himself burned trying to help put it out.

Scrumpy was not to be used to put out fires.

Scout was too busy freaking out, and Spy conveniently disappeared, so Sniper took it upon himself to get the Medic. The lab was in the infirmary, sealed off with a set of large metal doors compared to the infirmary’s swinging doors. When he knocked, he had to wait all of a few seconds before it was yanked open.

Medic hadn’t opened the door all the way, just enough to answer the door with what quickly went from a glare to a confused stare.

“You knocked?” Medic had asked. It was a confused question, as if the act of knocking itself was more important than the fact Sniper was there.

“Yeah, Demo tried to put out a fire. With Scrumpy. Heavy put it out but I think he may need your help, mate.”

Medic opened the door all the way then, and motioned Sniper inside. Had Sniper been paying attention to the German and not his surroundings, he would have seen Medic fluster just slightly, before taking a deep breath and composing himself.

The lab had a long metal table with what Sniper would guess was parts of the Medigun and two large chalkboards, filled with more numbers and calculations than actual words, and even then some of the words were in German. There were machines everywhere, a few he recognized such as microscopes, but others looked much more complicated. His labcoat was thrown behind a chair, red gloves folded neatly on top of it and there was a little fridge in a corner that was probably the reason for the steaming hot tumbler of tea on the side of the table.

Curiously, Sniper took in his appearance without his labcoat and his brain short circuited from being able to see Medic so relaxed. His sleeves were rolled back, showing off the light hairiness on his his arms. Sniper had to forcefully rip his gaze as they trailed to his ungloved hands to his face.

“Since Demo interrupted me, I can test my latest experiment on him. And I will make sure the procedure is excruciating.” Medic’s tone was cheerful, if not a little scary, and Sniper said a silent farewell to the Scotsman. Medic had grabbed what looked like the standard Medigun, but the pack had a different vial attached to it.

Medic was grinning. That was never a good sign.

Sniper led Medic to the common room, and hung back when Medic’s attention was zeroed in on the charred remains of dinner and an apologetic Pyro trying to ice Demo’s wounds, who was much more sober than before.

Medic growled.

Sniper fled.

Engineer’s workshop was less clinical. It had a two whiteboards instead of chalkboards, crates everywhere with blueprints, a table for said blueprints, and tool boxes and metal scraps everywhere. It seemed kind of messy at a glance but Sniper knew both Medic and Engineer to know they were very specific with their tools. The same way Medic would grab a scalpel or bonesaw with a surgeon's precision to threaten them with would be the same way Engie could grab a wrench or hammer and throw it at the nearest person bothering him.

Sniper’s attention snapped to Pyro as the arsonist seemed to get bored of looking around, fingers wiggling over the teleporter. A quick glance towards Engie and Medic showed Sniper they were deep into their conversation, now writing formulas on the whiteboard.

“Mate…” Sniper warned softly, but Pyro was undeterred. With a happy sound, they grabbed the nearest objects and put them through one side of the teleporter. Pyro clapped and giggled as it appeared from the other side.

Medic and Engie seemed not to care, so Sniper allowed himself to smile a little as he watched Pyro stick everything and anything into the teleporter, moving to the other one so he could take the objects off as they appeared.

Pyro seemed to take this as a challenge and sped up. A glove. A hammer. A piece of metal. A bullet. A shotgun. A suspicious looking photo of Engie in a ten gallon hat and cowboy boots - Sniper was definitely going to tease him about this later.

And finally, a sandwich.

“Bloody ‘ell!”

Sniper flinched when it came to his side of the table. Pyro tilted their head to the side, making an inquisitive sound as to why Sniper stopped playing. They walked over to the other teleporter and made a startled noise.

The sandwich had green pores all over it.

Neither of them noticed when Engie and Medic stopped talking, so when Medic pushed them both to the side they both startled.

“ _Gott im Himmel_ …” Medic whispered, before he hummed. “Interesting…”

“What’d y’all touch?” Engie demanded. Sniper looked towards Pyro for confirmation.

“Nothin’. Pyro put it through one end of the teleporter and it came out lookin’ like that.”

Pyro muffled an agreement.

“Yes well, thank you for your help.” Medic started, stepping away from the ruined sandwich to usher Sniper and Pyro to the door. “Now, get out.”

Pyro made a disappointed noise, but allowed Medic to push them out the door. Sniper sputtered.

“Wait doc!”

Medic paused, glancing up at Sniper expectantly. The eye contact made Sniper nervous suddenly, heart rate quickening and palms getting sweaty.

How could someone’s eyes be so icey blue?

“Sniper?”

Sniper swallowed, but couldn’t speak. Medic sighed, his gaze softening just slightly.

“Well, _danke_ again, Herr Sniper.” Medic flashed him a small smile before closing the door.

With the eye contact broken, Sniper released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Why did he always manage to make a fool of himself in front of the doctor?

“Y’welcome, doc,” he softly muttered to the door before turning.

Pyro was still standing there, head tilted to the side curiously.

_Piss._

When it was clear Pyro wasn’t going to say anything, Sniper awkwardly nodded, turned, and left. It was only after he was back in the safety of his camper that his heart rate calmed down.

Sitting on his chair by his mini table, Sniper put his head in his hands and groaned. Why was he so weird? He didn’t fit in with the other Australians and here he always made himself look like an idiot in front of Medic.

“If he doesn’t already think you’re some sort of piss throwin’ wanka…” Sniper mumbled to himself.

It was only when he reached out to pour himself a cold mug of pity coffee that he realized it.

He left his mug in the base.

\---

“Ya know, doc, if yall keep this up, even the slowest of us is gonna figure out there’s somethin’ goin’ on between the two of you, if they haven’t figured it out already.”

Medic gave the Engineer a weak glare, who just chuckled softly in return. Medic looked towards the teleporters again, still seeing Sniper’s soft smile as he did something as mundane as entertaining Pyro. It was a look rarely seen on him, at least for Medic. They rarely interacted, and while it was clear Sniper was rather relaxed around the others, Medic wasn’t around enough to be there when he was gratifying the others in their “team bonding exercises.”

And usually when Medic was there, Sniper wasn’t. It was a vicious cycle. But perhaps it was for the best.

Sniper’s smile made him look younger, though he was still younger than Medic himself. It made his eyes crinkle with warmth, one eye more green, the other more hazel. They were normally concealed with his aviators, and while Medic knew Sniper wore them to help with his color blindness, without them Medic was able to indulge himself. He could look all he want as long as he wasn’t caught. He just couldn’t have.

“You got it bad, doc.” Engineer’s smooth drawl cut him out of his musings.

“Are you taking pointers from Herr Spy?” Medic asked smoothly, adjusting his gloves.

“I’m just sayin’ doc, if you actually spent time with him, you might see he could be interested too.”

Medic scoffed, pulling a scalpel out of nowhere and pointing the sandwich. Engie was a good friend, but it would take too much time to explain why he wouldn’t let himself go after the Sniper. Especially not when they had a new test subject to poke and prod. “My love life, or lack thereof, is unimportant. We have work to do.”

Engie relented, taking a peek at the bread before sighing. “Ya know, we’ll probably have to move all this back to your lab, right?”

Medic froze, then groaned. “ _Scheiße!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course i used all the simple german thats in the game because what is languages. so yeah  
> ja: yes  
> Nein: no  
> Gott im Himmel: my god/god in heaven  
> danke: thanks  
> Scheiße: shit
> 
> also i was going to write in the accents but australian accents will be the death of me, so i didnt. 
> 
> also i dont know how color blindness works, forgive me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper gets the bad news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how to describe things, let alone a camper van as ive never been in one. but i tried. I used this as a [reference](http://www.campervanselect.co.nz/star-rv-pegasus-rv-4-berth-star-rv.html) .
> 
> also, i gave sniper my anxiety and crush on medic, medic my crush on sniper, spy my sarcasm, and i favor pyro in general. this should be interesting.

Sniper was startled awake by the sound of his camper being unlocked. He reached for his Kukri on instinct, but the moment his fingers touched the blade he pulled his hand back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He knew who was there. 

Sniper had tried to read to take his thoughts off Medic, but after reading the same sentence five times he gave up and decided to do some weapon maintenance. His rifle was the closest thing to worship he had, always polished lovingly and to perfection, and his Kukri was always sharpened enough to cut hairs, but he went through the motions anyway. When that didn’t work either he gave up and kicked off his shoes, not bothering with the rest of his clothes, and threw himself onto his bed to wallow in self pity. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of calling himself a bloody idiot. 

“I hope you are decent, Bushman, and that your camper is less filthy than it was last time I was here.”

Spy let himself into Sniper’s camper through the back door, lock picking kit sliding up his sleeve smoothly and looking around the camper in distaste. 

Sniper’s camper wasn’t filthy. It was crowded, but a decent enough size that Sniper’s lankiness didn’t hinder his mobility. His camper had two doors, one in the back and one on the driver’s side. The back door opened directly to the shower on one side and the toilet and sink on the other, both separated from the rest of the camper by a small room with a slim door. Right after the bathroom was the stove, oven, and a small kitchen sink, cabinets and counter. The other side had a mini fridge and freezer, and on top of it was a microwave. Right behind the front seats were small dressers that held his clothes and valuables, the table, side door and a ladder leading to the overhead bed. There was a slim wall that separated the front seats to the rest of the camper, the narrow doorway covered by a curtain. His rifle and Kukri were hung here, easily in reach from his bed and driver’s seat. 

The camper itself was clean. Sure there were way too many coffee pots and pain killers lying around, and even a few shirts thrown here and there, but everything else was in order. But to Spy, he might as well be waddling in the mess in Scout’s room. 

“You could always knock, Spook. What if I wasn’t dressed?”

“There’s no point in knocking. You sleep anywhere and everywhere and would wake up when someone approaches you quietly, but wouldn’t wake up when they knock. You truly are something,  _ mon ami _ .” 

Spy’s words were, as always, sarcastic and biting, but Sniper knew better than to take them at face value. His instincts were what helped keep him alive, after all. 

“I should sleep nude more often if tha’ll keep ya from snoopin’,” Sniper mumbled, slipping out of his bed without having to take the ladder down and straightening it out. He didn’t bother straightening his appearance or fixing what he was sure was a bed head since the Frenchman was the one who barged in. He could deal with it.

Spy heard him, of course. “If that’s the case, I’ll just take this back to the base and give it to Scout. I’m sure he’d love to use it as a baseball.”

Sniper turned to see Spy pull out his mug and set it on his table gently. Sniper grinned as he slipped on his aviators, the dull gray letters suddenly becoming the bright red everyone else saw. He picked it up and inspected it, seeing it was already washed and dried, in perfect condition. 

“You cheeky bastard, I’d kiss ya if I wasn’t so afraid you’d stab me.” Sniper said in lieu of thanks. 

Spy snorted, pulling his disguise kit out of his suit and flicking out a cigarette. Sniper held his hand out expectantly, and Spy rolled his eyes but gave him one as well. He waited until they both lit up and exhaled their first breath of smoke before responding. “Go ahead and try, Bushman, I’d love nothing more than to show you firsthand all the painful ways I could send a man to respawn.”

Even though Sniper knew Spy would gladly keep his word, he chuckled anyway, feeling the tension from earlier drain out of his body. Spy may have been an asshole but he was a good friend and good company. 

They relaxed in silence for a while before Sniper asked, “How was the mission?” 

Spy neatly flicked the ash off his cigarette in the ashtray in the center of Sniper’s table, both of them sliding into the chairs so they were sitting across from each other. It was a bit of a crowded fit, but both of them had enough room to be comfortable. It probably helped they were both slim.

“We got the briefcase. Minimum injuries. Miss Pauling is on clean up duty, though I imagine as we speak she must be finishing up.”

“Did Scout try askin’ her out again?”

“But of course. It’s always painful to watch. Almost as bad as watching you strike out with  _ le docteur _ .”

“I don’t strike out.” 

“Right, you don’t even try, and yet you still manage to make a fool of yourself.”

Sniper deadpanned. “The briefcases. What’s even in ‘em?”

Spy gave Sniper a pointed look and Sniper held up a hand in surrender. Spy answered anyway, “It isn’t wise to let  _ everyone _ know we have the codes to the BLU team’s missile.” Sniper straightened with a jolt, staring at Spy wide eyed but Spy continued, unphased. “Should it launch it will take out  _ both _ of our bases, so you can imagine Miss Pauling doesn’t want certain team members knowing.”

Sniper figured Spy was talking about Soldier or Scout. And maybe Demo but even drunk, the Scotsman wouldn’t do something that would endanger them all. Pyro seemed happy with their flamethrower and had no interest in any other weapon, although if there was a big shiny “dont push me” red button, that might be all it takes for Pyro’s childish nature to come in play. Sniper himself didn’t really care for launch codes, sniping was all he was good at, and Heavy was too attached to his minigun Sascha to care either. Spy just gave his reason for weariness, and Sniper wondered if Medic and Engie would be interested, but tossed the idea away almost immediately. Engie was content with his sentries, always trying to improve them, and Medic lived for his experiments. But as the two most irresponsible of the team, Soldier and Scout would have to be kept in the dark. Scout was a good kid, but was prone to moments of impulse, or what Spy liked to call, idiocy, and Soldier was crazy enough to launch the missile anyway, regardless of the consequences. 

“I see your point,” Sniper mumbled, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

There was another comfortable silence before Spy broke it, a gloved finger tracing the rim of Sniper’s mug. “I’m surprised you’d carelessly leave something so important to you in the base. It’s unlike you.”

It was a polite inquiry, and Sniper trusted him enough to answer it, albeit with a simple, “Medic asked me to help move things.”

Spy nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette, already having the pieces of the puzzle together. Spy knew how Medic affected Sniper, teased him about it even. Sniper was sure it was one of those “secrets everyone in the base knew except for the subject of said secret.” The same was with Spy being Scouts father. Everyone knew, even Scout himself to a certain extent.

Scout may have been energetic, and a little dense, but Sniper noticed the lingering and questioning looks, the self doubt. Scout may be denying it with every fiber of his being, but he suspected, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light. 

One thing Sniper was grateful was that no one pushed their way into personal territory. 

They all came from different backgrounds, some more rough than others, but it wasn’t something anyone pushed. Any information offered was appreciated, and kept within the walls of the base - even though everyone knew the Administrator was watching, but the sentiment was the same. Where they came from was only to be discussed if it was clear the person was comfortable discussing it.

Naturally, Spy offered nothing. Only enough to know he enjoyed his coffee black and his croissants warm, things of that nature. Pyro offered nothing either, but that wasn’t a surprise. Heavy, Medic and Sniper were a bit silent about their pasts as well, only telling an amusing or homesick story here and there. Engie and Demo were a bit more open, having plenty of tales to tell. And then there were Soldier and Scout, whom everyone knew everything about, even if you didn’t want to. 

But it was this respect for personal space that meant no one hounded Spy over his estranged relationship with Scout. They accepted that he had his reasons and that was that. No one bothered Sniper about the Medic either. There would always be a wink from Demo here, or a smirk from Spy and Heavy, but no one else bothered him. Sniper was beginning to think no one else knew. 

“Speaking of the Medic,” Spy began, his voice curiously light and easy. Sniper knew that meant he had bad news and straightened instinctively. “Are you aware of the situation?”

At Sniper’s furrowed brows, Spy sighed, as if Sniper was purposefully being difficult. “We’re dying. In three days.”

When Sniper just blinked at him, Spy growled, enunciating each word with a movement of the cigarette in his hand. “Mundy. We are dying. The teleporter gave us all tumors. It is not something respawn can fix.”

Sniper knew by the use of his name, Spy was serious, and let the information sink in, face blank. He saw the tumors himself, so he knew it was true. Oddly, he didn’t feel panicked or upset. Perhaps respawn dulled the idea of dying. 

Dying.

Sniper looked down at the cigarette between his fingers, watching it slowly burn out. It didn’t matter to him, the thought of dying. Maybe he deserved this. He killed so many people and yet he felt nothing. He even enjoyed it most of the time. No, he wasn’t sad he was dying.

The only thing that ran through his head was that he should call his parents. 

At that, his heart broke a little. Numbly, he lifted his mug with his free hand, gently running his thumb over the lettering. It was a gift from them, as was his aviators. His father never approved of the whole “assassin” thing, but he was obviously proud anyway. His mother was more accepting, glad he finally found something he loved after a childhood of being alone almost all the time since he never fit in. 

His aviators were given to him the same day. As a kid, he’d always wonder why his eyes were weird, or why he couldn’t see things the way other kids did. He always wondered why he just wasn’t like everyone else. His parents always said he was just special, and meant he was simply better than everyone else. But Sniper didn’t want to stand out, he wanted to fit in, he wanted friends. Getting color enhancing glasses were expensive, but after years of not being able to see red and sometimes green the same way as everyone else, they finally saved enough to get him a pair.

They didn’t just help Sniper see, they were important to him, so he wore them proudly.

But he was dying now. Would his father be upset? Say I told you so? Would his mother cry? Regret supporting his decision to go become a sniper?

A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he had to fight the instinct to grab a knife. It was a reaction all too common for him and he was still working on it outside of battle.

“ _ Mon ami _ , I will give you time to yourself. But I ask you to come to the base. I will call for a meeting so we can have our last wishes fulfilled. Don’t spend your last hours alone. You have us. We fight together, we will die together.”

Sniper glanced at his friend, who had leaned over the table to be able to reach him. They were face to face, and Sniper could clearly see the storm in his eyes. Spy’s eyes were blue, as were Scouts, but they didn’t hold a candle to Medic’s. They were more of a soft baby blue, one that he was sure drove the sheila’s crazy. But they weren’t icy blue, so blue they commanded attention, seemed to look into your soul. 

Spy’s eyes didn’t make Sniper’s heart race, or his palms sweaty. They didn’t make his hands shake when they looked at him. 

Instead, Spy’s normally guarded and bored eyes were storming with emotion. And Sniper knew, in that moment, Spy didn’t want to die. 

Of course he didn’t. Spy was still in love with Scout’s mom. He had unfinished business. He had wanted to tell Scout the truth, but never could find the courage. Spy had a reason to live. The proof enough was in his eyes, the picture in his disguise kit, the tone of his voice. 

And Spy cared about the others enough to want them to be happy before they died. Spy acted like an asshole all the time, but Sniper knew it was because sometimes their teammates were difficult to deal with. Spy thought of them as fully grown children who were given guns to play with. It was an accurate assessment. 

Plus, sarcasm just seemed to be a part of his personality. But Spy cared, he just cared silently. He would never admit it to anyone, though. Instead, his actions spoke loudly for him.

So, Sniper nodded, getting up to collect his hat, glove and vest. Truth was, he knew the others probably didn’t care. Many of them were like him, they killed with no remorse, they were irredeemable no matter their reasons or intentions, and knew one day they would have to pay the price. But Spy wasn’t ready, and for his friend, he’d be there. 

And as Spy stubbed out his own cigarette and they both left his camper, Sniper briefly wondered what it would be like to have such a reason to live. For love. 

Of course, his brain immediately jumped to Medic. And while he’d normally push the thought away, he let himself linger. Would he find the will to live if he and Medic were in love? If Medic accepted and reciprocated his feelings? 

His heart pounded, and Sniper shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. The idea was tempting. But he knew it wouldn’t work. Medic didn’t feel that way about him. And even if he did, they were dying, there was no point. 

Sniper would die the same way he lived, alone. And for some reason, that thought scared him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always i used the easiest phrases ever since i dont know german or french
> 
> mon ami: my friend  
> le docteur: the doctor
> 
> thank you google translate


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy and Sniper have a talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea what happened with this chapter. it just kept going and going. also if everyone is OOC its because i suck im sorry. 
> 
> i gave spy the name Jacques because i actually really like that name. but for sniper, demo, heavy, engie, scout and medic i'll be using their canon names. im not sure if ill give sniper and medic full names yet but...in due time

**70 Hours Until Death**

“See you all in hell!”

Sniper snickered to himself as he watched Scout babble about his prank well done, animatedly talking to Heavy about it, who seemed to be tuning him out. Pyro and Soldier managed to somehow disappear and it was just Scout, Heavy, Demo, and himself walking through the halls back to their rooms.

“It’s not like anyone had anything they wanted to do, right? I asked everyone, even Medic and Engie, and they just shooed me away. So, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to have Spy make an ass of himself.”

Sniper’s attention zeroed in at the mention of Medic, but Scout didn’t seem to notice and continued talking. Demo and Heavy, however, both sent him smirks. When Sniper just grumbled at them under his breath, Heavy’s smirk turned into a grin. 

“Hello, Doktor. Engineer.”

“Ah,  _ hallo _ Heavy!”

Sniper jumped with a start, not expecting the doctor to be there, and Demo burst into loud laughter. Sniper ignored him, however, to lock eyes with Medic. He had been too busy glaring at his teammates to notice Medic and Engie walk up with carts full of bread and teleporters, no doubt to continue their experiments. 

Damn doc was always throwing him off.

Medic and Engie simply passed on their greetings and continued on their way to Medic’s lab. As he passed, Medic smiled at Sniper, and Sniper tipped his hat, both in greeting and to hide his blush. 

Sniper watched him walk away, an empty feeling in his chest. He was going to die alone. Medic barely ever gave him a second glance, and now he’d never get the chance to really get to know the doctor. 

“Aye, lad, you’ve got it bad!” Demo declared cheerily once they were out of earshot. Sniper grumbled, ripping his eyes away from Medic’s retreating form as he turned a corner. 

“What, Snipes with Medic?” Scout asked, confused. “He ain’t that scary, Snipes. I mean...besides that time he accidently stitched Archimedes inta me, but that was an accident!”

“Or that time he replaced me liver with a bucket o’ chicken for bargin’ into his lab,” Demo added.

“Or that time he sent Soldier ta respawn because his raccoons tried to eat his doves...ok maybe he’s a freakin’ lunatic, but he’s good at what he does. Usually.” Scout tried. 

“I dunnae think fear is what he has, laddie,” Demo stated, sending Sniper another smirk as he lifted his bottle of Scrumpy to his face for a gracious swing. Sniper just glared.

As Scout tried to get Demo to clarify for him, Heavy put a large hand on Sniper’s shoulder. Sniper’s flinch was lost under the comforting pressure and when Sniper turned to him, Heavy leveled him with a meaningful and comforting look. Sniper felt himself relax. 

Heavy was a pillar of silent strength. When he did speak, it was insightful even with the thick accent, and usually everyone stopped to listen. Heavy may have been the strong silent type, but he was a world away from dumb. 

Like Sniper, that silence usually left on the battlefield between shouting orders at their teammates or shouting taunts at their enemies. 

With the exception of Medic and Heavy himself, Sniper was the tallest mercenary on their team, and was grateful he didn’t have to strain his neck to maintain eye contact with the Russian. 

“Doktor is good man, but stubborn. And proud. Perhaps now is good time to admit feelings to him,  _ da _ ? He will spend last hours in lab if you do not. Is no way to go.”

Sniper struggled to find the right words. Medic would never give him a chance, not someone like him. They were too different, he was too different. 

Heavy seemed to read between the lines, because he spoke again. “Sniper does not give himself enough credit. Doktor enjoys your company. I cannot make you talk to him, but it would make both of you happy.”

Sniper didn’t know what to say, so he nodded. Heavy seemed content enough, and released him. When they caught up to Demo and Scout, they somehow switched to talking about calling their families. Sniper winced, another sore topic. 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m telling my ma about this. She has enough on her plate with my brothers, she don’t need to worry about me too.” Scout’s voice cracked, and he tried to clear his throat subtly. It was clear it was hard for him to think of how to break the news to his mother as hard as it was for Sniper.

“Aye, I dunnae if I’ll tell me mum. I love her an’ all but then I’ll have to listen to her tell me how disappointed he is in me. Nah, I’ll just drink until I can’ no more.” As if to prove his point, Demo took a gracious swing from his bottle, nearly draining the whole thing. 

“What about you guys? You callin’ home?” Scout turned his attention to them, and Heavy shrugged besides him. 

“Heavy came to shoot his gun. I have done this. I have no regrets. Sisters will be sad Misha is gone, but they are strong, and will move on.” 

Sniper fumbled as attention was suddenly turned to him. It was no secret how much he cared about his parents, even if he tried not to talk about them much. Having the attention shifted to him made him trip over his words. “Uh, I don’t know if I’ll call ‘em yet.”

“You should, lad. If you dunnae wanna ask the doc out, you should at least say bye to your parents. Die with no regrets, right?”

Sniper’s glare at Demo was lost as Scout suddenly stopped walking. He fumbled with his hands a bit. “Uh, actually guys, I got somethin’ to do. So. Yeah.” And with that, he turned and ran in the direction they just came from. 

The three watched him disappear before Demo spoke. “Aye, looks like at least someone grew a pair! How much we gonna bet for him and Miss Pauling? I vote against! Dyin’ or not, he won’t ever get a shot with that type of woman.”

Sniper resisted the urge to wack Demo. The team placed bets on everything and anything, and most of them were started by Demo himself. Sniper usually lost so he tried to keep from betting, though Demo could be really persuasive. Sniper wasn’t a sore loser, just didn’t like losing.

“Actually, I’m goin’ too, mates. G’day.” 

Sniper didn’t bother waiting for a response before turning and heading towards his room. They were already close enough to the rooms that he didn’t have to go far, but once he locked himself inside, he pressed his back against the door and took a deep breath. 

He liked his team, but being around so many people for a prolonged period of time always left him tired. 

Sniper took a quick glance around his room. He was almost always in his van and rarely used it. It was more of a storage for his cosmetics and a place to rest when he was too tired to go back to his van after a long day. 

Each door was marked with their class symbol. The rooms themselves were simple and all had a similar layout, a semi comfortable bed with a pillow and sheet, a closet, a dresser, and a night stand with a lamp. There was a light hanging from the ceiling and a window by the wall, bars on the outside to remind them they weren’t exactly on vacation.

Sniper’s window was closed, covered by red curtains that let just enough light from the full moon in so that Sniper could see. The dark didn’t bother him, so he didn’t bother flicking the switch for the main light. 

He knew some mercs liked to decorate their rooms. Scout’s room had posters of his favorite baseball teams, Demo’s was littered in all different kinds of alcohol bottles, Heavy’s room was full of books, though most of them had been moved to the library to make room for his bed for Sascha. Engie’s room had books and guitar music everywhere. Soldier’s room was a paradox. All of his clothes and hats were organized to the letter, but there was discarded paper, dirt and raccoon fur everywhere. He also had the American flag hung from every available surface, true to his rather intense patriotism. 

Pyro’s door had stickers on them, but Sniper has never seen the inside. Medic kept his room locked, so Sniper has never seen it as well. Sniper had never seen Spy’s room either, and wasn’t going to force him to show him. Spy’s room was his privacy, and he knew if he told Spy to stay out of his room, he would, so he returned the favor. 

Taking his hat and aviators off and putting them on his pillow, Sniper sat on his bed, thinking about Heavy’s advice to him. 

He scrubbed his face with his ungloved hand, pulling it down only to watch the numbers on the timer on his wrist countdown, tick by tick. He had about 68 hours to live at this point. Could he do it? Could he convince Medic to give him a shot before they carked it? 

Sniper twiddled his thumbs, letting himself get lost in thought. 

How would he even do it? Does he just...ask? Surely it couldn’t be that easy. Medic would never want to just leave his lab to go on a date with a weird bushman. It would be a miracle if Medic didn’t laugh his ass off. 

But...if Sniper could convince him. Sniper had never been on a date. He spent most of his childhood and teenage years figuring out that he didn’t fit in, and then learning to be ok with it. There was one sheila, but she eventually grew to like the average Australian, blokes like Saxton Hale. People only seemed to take interest in his weirdly accurate aim with almost anything, and when he was old enough he perfected his skills in the Outback. Alone. Even when he decided to become an assassin, he never let himself get too attached to people. He didn’t need them. But ever since he became apart of a team, he realized just how solitary his life had been. 

Medic grew up in a city in Germany. In Stuttgart. 

Sniper remembered because Soldier was talking about his fights in Germany in the war, and Medic had tuned into the conversation rather happily, talking about his childhood home and the places he thought were most beautiful. Any mention of life after that was silenced with an icy glare that made the blood freeze in all of their veins, which made one thing certain about the doctor: he was not a Nazi.

So Sniper knew that a handsome man like Medic, despite all his insanity, had to have at least dated. Men, women, both, he wasn’t sure. But no one in their right minds would pass the chance. 

Well...maybe they would if he tried to experiment on them. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the hairs on his arm standing on end, and Sniper strained to listen, hearing a soft, almost inaudible click by his door. 

Spy.

Sniper didn’t move, waiting for his friend to unlock his door. Soon enough it opened and closed minutely, and Spy uncloaked as he sat besides the Aussie. “I can practically see the smoke coming off of your head.”

“Bugger off,” Sniper mumbled, childishly throwing himself back on his bed. 

The lamp was flicked on and Sniper winced at the sudden change in lighting. 

“Stop being so childish, Bushman. I came to check on you.”

When Sniper answered with a grunt, Spy rolled his eyes, but continued.

“You didn’t put a card into the bucket. Will you not confess your feelings to the Medic?”

“You gonna tell Scout you’re ‘is dad?” Sniper shot back. There was a tense pause, and Sniper had enough decency to feel guilty. 

To his surprise, Spy chuckled, before bursting into obnoxious, snorty laughter. 

Sniper watched his friend fearfully until Spy got himself under control, lighting up a cigarette. 

“Touché. You are much more fun when you are angry, Bushman.” Spy put the cigarette to his lips. 

Sniper relaxed. Looked like Spy wasn’t going to backstab him for the comment. Though, he wouldn’t have blamed his friend. Spy showed him great trust by telling him face to face he was Scout’s father and he just threw that trust in his face. 

“Still, mate, I shouldn’t have-”

Spy waved him off with a flick of his hand and Sniper quieted. 

“Don’t be. I understand if I’m being...more pushy than I normally would be. But know it is because I am your friend, and I want you to be happy, even in your final hours.”

Sniper tried to open his mouth to protest, but was silenced once again. 

“Don’t. Don’t argue with me about this, Mundy. Respect me in that regard. You may not see it but you lock yourself away in an attempt to keep others from hurting you. Yes, you need to take more baths. Yes, your eyes are different colors. Yes, you cannot see the world’s colors as the rest of us can. Yes, you are weird, Bushman. But you are you. And we are all weird in some way. You are apart of a group of mercenaries who kill each other nine to five on weekdays as if it’s some sort of desk job. Your quirks only mean you are your own person, and that you belong with this group of fully grown, violent and murderous children. Myself included.”

Sniper sat up as Spy stubbed out his half finished cigarette, not daring to say a single word. He knew Spy wasn’t done. 

It came as a surprise when Spy pulled off his mask, again giving Sniper another leap of trust. It was the one thing Sniper was convinced he’d never see when if came to the Frenchman. 

Spy honestly wasn’t bad looking. He had sharp cheekbones, and his black hair was more of a salt and pepper color, more gray in it than Medic had. It was pushed back, though Sniper could tell it was probably longer than his. His forehead had wrinkles in it, making him look his age, and Sniper was sure most of those wrinkles were recent. 

Medic seemed to be going gray at his temples thanks to the stress of the team too. 

Spy looked down at the mask in his hands, talking as he observed it.

“You don’t let yourself be happy, Mundy. I can’t force you to change that now, but I will ask. The Medic is a man who holds himself high. He throws himself into his experiments head first and makes himself seem detached and untouchable. But he is still just a man. If I were to have feelings for him as you do, I would think it a challenge to get him to agree to have a relationship with me. If I were Heavy, perhaps I’d have a bit of a difficulty getting passed his many walls. Anyone else in the base? A definite no.”

Spy looked at him then, and the eye contact felt so much more vulnerable, both of them without their usual attire to hide behind. 

“But you. You do not seek him because you are terrified of that rejection, so you figure being alone is better than being hurt. What you don’t know is that he returns your affection.”

Sniper didn’t react at all physically, but felt the breath leave him as if he was punched in the gut by Heavy. He sat staring at Spy with a blank face, trying to speak, trying to find his voice to ask his friend  _ what the actual fuck  _ but his voice refused to cooperate. 

“I would not tell you if I was not sure of it, my friend. I speak to the Medic often enough. I’m sure the Engineer can confirm my observations.” 

Engie knew too? More questions popped in Snipers head. Did Heavy know? Did anyone else know? Did Medic really…?

“But you both are simultaneously similar and yet so different, that it is nothing short of frustrating! Neither of you are willing to let down your walls, even as our hours countdown. He would rather spend his time in his lab and you would rather sit in here and sulk! Both of your professional prides are so much that neither of you will budge in order to get closer to one another!”

Sniper opened his mouth. Spy glared at him.

“And don’t give me that  _ merde _ of the enemy Soldier and our Demoman! They were forced apart because they were on rivaling teams, and you are not trying to get into the BLU Medic’s pants, as far as I know.”

Sniper closed his mouth with an audible click. The annoyance was clear on Spy’s features and in the way he was steadily raising his voice, and Sniper was a little afraid of saying something that would make his mood worse. 

The worst part about this was that Spy was right. 

Spy took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself down. When he spoke again, his tone was under control once more. 

“Apologies. I do not mean to complain. You are my friend, and I want you to be happy, despite the circumstances. Especially because of the circumstances. You try to look out for us on the battlefield, the least I can do is look out for you now.”

There was a silence, one so thick Sniper was sure he could cut it with his Kukri. He swallowed as Spy looked down at his mask again before responding. 

“No worries, mate. I...I know I can be a bit difficult. I’m not used to having people other than my parents care for me.” Sniper admitted softly. Spy sighed, just as softly. 

“I know, Bushman. But believe it or not, we do.” 

Things were silent for a while again, and Sniper allowed himself to nervously think about Medic. Spy said he returned his feelings. The spook wouldn’t lie about something as serious as this. 

A bubble of something uncomfortable grew in his chest. Should he do it? Should he ask Medic out?

He imagined the Medic, in his lab with Engie doing whatever experiments they were doing, silently suppressing his feelings in order to finish his experiments. Dying alone, just like he would.

The bubble in his chest turned cold and clenched. He didn’t like that idea. Of Medic spending his last few hours locking himself away from the rest of them. Not if he could do something about it. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Spy looked at Sniper incredulously, but Sniper just repeated himself, firmly this time. “I’ll do it. I’m askin’ the Doc out.”

“He will not be led out of his lab so easily.” Spy warned, but Sniper just shrugged. 

“I know that, I’ll just have to convince ‘im.” 

Spy chuckled softly, seeming to accept Sniper’s sudden determination. “I will be here if you need any help.”

“I know, thanks, Spook.”

“ _ De rien _ .”

Sniper hastily got up, wanting to do it before he lost his nerve. Spy seemed to get the hint, slipping on his mask and waiting as Sniper pushed his hair in place and put his hat on, aviators already on his face. 

Spy lit up another cigarette. “You know, I spent a good twenty minutes or so going through each of Scout’s cards. They were funny, if not crude. Imagine what he could do if he spent his energy on things other than immature pranks.” 

“I’d imagine things around here would be less fun.” Sniper shot back, both of them exiting his room. 

Spy chuckled and nodded in agreement, before fixing Sniper with a look. “I will not accompany you, this is something you must do on your own. I wish you luck, Mundy.”

Sniper resisted the urge to shuffle from foot to foot under Spy’s scrutiny. “Thanks, Spook.”

“Jacques.” 

Sniper felt himself smile. “Thanks Jacques.”

“Now go, before you change your mind.”

Spy cloaked, and Sniper waited until Spy’s almost inaudible footsteps disappeared before taking a deep breath. He steeled himself, and went to go see the Medic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always i dont speak german/russian/french
> 
> de rien: youre welcome  
> hallo: hello  
> da: yes  
> merde: shit


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro tries to give Sniper a helping hand in asking Medic out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course it cant be that easy. I like making Sniper suffer.

Alone in front of the infirmary, Sniper gave into the urge to shuffle nervously. This was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea. Medic was going to laugh at him, or worse, tell him he wasn’t interested in a piss throwing bushman who spit more than was socially acceptable.

He should just go back to his camper. Leave before someone noticed him. Before  _ Medic _ noticed him. He should just go back to his camper and piss off alone. He should just-

Sniper shook his head. He couldn’t just give up. Spy would gut him like a fish and never let him live this down. 

Not that he was going to live for long anyway.

Sniper had a sudden image in his head, not unlike the one in his room. Of Medic, alone, watching as his hours countdown, and that uncomfortable feeling was once again in his gut. He couldn’t let that be reality, not when he returned Sniper’s feelings. 

Sniper rose his hand to knock, and then hesitated. 

What would he even say? Every time he saw the doctor he got tongue tied. How would he even get the question out? What would he even ask? 

‘D’ya wanna go on a date, doc?’ 

That was cheesy.

‘Hey doc we’re dyin’. Wanna go out for the last few hours?’

Ugh, he should’ve asked Spy for advice on what to say.

His internal freak out was halted when he heard the tell-tale sound of booted footsteps. Sniper turned to see Pyro walk around the corner carefully, a tray with two mugs in their hands. The mugs were steaming with what smelled like coffee, and Pyro added the whole coffee pot, cream and a little jar of sugar to the tray.  

Pyro looked up from the tray and made a soft noise as they noticed Sniper. Pyro shifted, as if trying to find a way to wave without dropping the tray, but soon made a noise of defeat and slumped their shoulders. 

Sniper managed a small smile for the arsonist. “Hey Py. You bringing Engie and the Doc some coffee?” 

Pyro made the muffle they usually made when they agreed with something, so Sniper took that as a yes. 

Sniper chuckled. Pyro was always extra sweet to the Doc and Engie. And Scout too, but Sniper wasn’t sure how Pyro could keep up with Scout’s extensive talking. 

Pyro looked at the door, then at Sniper, then back at the door, before holding the tray out to Sniper to hold. 

Sniper tensed. “Uh, mate, I-”

Pyro made an insisting noise and Sniper quieted, relenting and awkwardly taking the tray from the arsonist. He was still kind of weary of them.

Satisfied, Pyro tried the door, only to find it locked. Pyro made a confused sound and Sniper sighed. 

“A bit rude not to knock, ‘innit? Try knockin’ mate.”

Pyro relented and knocked on the door. Sniper fidgeted, not really able to run away with the tray in his hands. When the knocking produced no answer, Pyro grunted, took a deep breath and-

“Mrrdrr!!”

Sniper gave Pyro a look. It sounded distinctively like...was he calling Medic? 

Sure enough, the infirmary doors slammed open and there Medic stood, coat slightly disheveled and hair messy, as if he’d run his fingers through it numerous times already. 

Sniper swallowed, his heart pounding. He’d seen the man look like this plenty of times, after tough battles where he would end up running all over the battlefield, desperately trying to heal everyone. But the image never failed to make the Sniper warm.

He wondered how Medic would look if Sniper was the one who messed up his hair, pulled it and-

Woah. Time to put a stop to those thoughts before he embarrassed himself. 

“What? Pyro, we’re busy. If you are injured just respawn or something.” Medic hissed, clearly annoyed. The warmth in Sniper’s abdomen extinguished as if someone threw ice water on it and the instinct to run came back ten fold. Sniper nervously adjusted the tray in his hands. 

Bad move, because Medic’s piercing gaze snapped to him and Sniper stiffened. Looking at the tray in Sniper’s hands, Medic visibly relaxed, his icy gaze softening just so. 

“You brought us coffee?”

Pyro nodded enthusiastically, making an excited muffle. Medic smiled softly, and stepped aside to let them in. 

Pyro turned back to the Sniper and he was pushed in with unexpected strength. Sniper stumbled, trying his best not to drop the tray as he did what the arsonist bid him to. Medic took the tray gracefully with a quick thanks in German and entered his lab, Pyro all but dragging Sniper in as they followed. 

“Herr Engineer! I believe it’s time for a break! Pyro and Sniper brought us coffee!”

The lab was messier than Sniper remembered it being, needles here and there and bread all over the place. The board was filled with messy handwriting, numbers and equations that Sniper wasn’t even going to try to dispatcher. 

Engie cleared a spot on the long table so Medic could put down the tray and immediately picked up a cup. 

“Thanks, fellahs. Medic here is a slave driver.”

Medic rolled his eyes at the Texan as he added cream and sugar to his own cup. “Pah! The quicker we find out about the tumors the better. I don’t know about you guys but I still have work to complete. I can’t do it if I’m dead.” Medic took a quick sip and promptly began putting more sugar in his cup, sparing a quick glance at the clock on the wall. “Besides, we’ve only been here for 6 hours!”

“It's also passed 0200 hours!”

Medic gave a blank face in response, completely missing the Texan’s point. Engie gave up with a sigh and muttered to himself, taking off his goggles and hard-hat and scrubbing his tired face with his free hand. 

Right. Work. Medic would only find a cure to continue his work. Sniper felt a bit more validated for wanting to get the doc out of his lab.

But now that he was in here, he was frozen to the spot. The man was no more than a few steps away, yet he couldn’t get his suddenly dry mouth to work. 

Pyro nudged him with an elbow and Sniper glanced at the arsonist questioningly. Pyro made a few motions between Sniper and Medic, and the Aussie raised an eyebrow, not really understanding. Pyro made a deflated noise and Sniper shrugged, deciding it was best to ignore the arsonist.  

Pyro, however, seemed not to like that. They picked up the pot of coffee, grabbed Snipers ungloved hand, making him tense on reflex. Pyro looked straight into his eyes with those creepy black lenses as they poured scalding hot coffee on the back of his hand. 

Sniper yelped, and Medic was by his side in an instant, inspecting his hand. 

“Pyro! I don’t need extra work with what I already have- ahh, it’s burned. Come, we must run your hand under cool water if you wish to continue holding a rifle.”

Sniper turned pale, but followed the doctor to the infirmary without complaint. Sniper turned to glare at Pyro, but the arsonist had already put down the coffee pot, waving at Sniper cheerfully, the little mutant. Engie was behind him, shaking his head tiredly but not at all angry.

It was when Medic removed his gloves and had his hand under the cold water that he realized it. 

The coffee gave him an excuse to come inside. Pyro injured him so he’d have the chance to talk to Medic. Alone. While holding his hand under cool water. So Pyro was helping him. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all. 

Medic’s hands were calloused, but soft, even under the run of the water. Sniper’s own looked weirdly tanned and hairy compared the doctor’s. Sniper blushed and resisted the urge to snatch his hand away, the contact nearly electrifying. He let his hand stay limp in Medic’s surprisingly gentle grip, wanting to enjoy the moment.

He didn’t say anything as Medic grumbled to himself about pesky Pyros always burning something. Medic studied his hand, gently turning it this way and that before deciding on the appropriate medical treatment. 

His hand was red, but wasn’t bubbling. The sting was probably the worst of it. Sniper knew from his own experiences it wasn’t that bad, and a little bush style ointment would do the trick. He knew Medic would kill him if he denied his help, though. Plus...he didn’t want Medic to stop holding his hand. 

“Looks like we got you under the water just in time. It isn’t severe. Some ointment and a quick zap of the Medigun should heal it nicely.”

Sniper looked at his hand, “At least I can still snipe. That wanker, could’ve really done some damage.”

Medic gently guided Sniper to his medicine cabinets and dug for the right one, “Oh no, Herr Sniper. Unfortunately your hand might fall off it I don’t give it proper treatment. So sad, I might have to cut it off actually.”

Sniper tensed, and Medic turned to him with a smirk. “I’m merely joking. You’re right, it’s not that serious. Painful, but easy to treat, thankfully.”

Sniper let out a relieved sigh, and Medic pulled out an ointment, uncapping it with his teeth. He put a gracious amount on Sniper’s hand and Sniper sighed again in a different type of relief. 

Medic rescrewed the cap on and used a bare hand to gently run the ointment on. Sniper’s breath caught in his throat and he made a choking noise. Medic glanced up at him questioningly but didn’t ask, simply led him to the large medigun in the center of the infirmary, and flipped the switch on low, holding Sniper’s hand under the healing beam. 

The red faded fast, and Medic switched it off again, inspecting his hand for any other signs of injury. 

Medic had softened over the years of healing them. Not that it made him any less dangerous on the battlefield, he was still one of the most dangerous of the mercs. Always flipping between from stark raving mad to questioningly sane. He was unpredictable at best, murderous at worse. 

But the same hands that would saw the enemy’s head off and roughly patched up their wounds were now much more gentle with them, even if the biting tones and icy glares were not. Medic’s experiments had lessen in numbers, and were less painful and more fun curiosity than before. Where the entire team used to be terrified of him, they had all grown to appreciate the man of medicine. 

That didn’t mean Medic wasn’t scary when he wanted to be, though. 

Sniper was sure the man himself didn’t notice how he started to care for the team as more than a bunch of experiments. They were all annoying in different ways, but they all genuinely enjoyed each others company. They were a family. Medic included. 

Sniper blushed as Medic’s thumb ran over the back of his hand, and a far away look came across the doctor’s face. It was a peaceful one, which softened his features and made him look so much different from the crazed man that made his heart pound for many reasons.

Sniper wanted to kiss him. Badly.

But nerves and the fact Medic’s bonesaw was in reach stopped him from doing so. Instead he blurted out, “Wanna go out with me?”

Medic startled, looking up at Sniper with wide eyes. Wide blue eyes. Sniper swallowed.

“...What?”

“I said,” Sniper took a deep breath, hand tightening on Medic’s without him noticing, and looked the doctor in the eyes as he repeated himself, heart hammering. “Do you want to do out? With me? On a date?” 

Sniper waited for the laughter, for the humiliation. But there was none. There was a tense pause, slowly crushing Sniper’s lungs from nerves. Archimedes cooed from somewhere, locked in her cage to keep her out of trouble for now. Medic’s eyes were searching his face for any sign that this was a joke, but found nothing but pure honesty and hope, even behind the aviators. 

Medic had to resist the urge to rip them off his face in the need to see his eyes. 

It felt like hours before Medic broke the tense stillness, straightening and letting go of Sniper’s hand, yanking his own behind his back. 

“Uh. Sniper...I- This is sweet and all but. I can’t. I’m still working on the bread tumors. I have work to do.”

Sniper knew he was going to get rejected, but hearing the words coming out of Medic’s mouth hurt more than he expected it to. He tried to keep a straight face. Medic normally wasn’t in tune with the emotions around him, even if the person was in front of him, but the hurt must have shown because Medic continued, stuttering.

“I-I’m flattered! Really I am! But...Sniper we’re about to die. Now is hardly an appropriate time to pursue any type of relationship. I-I’m sorry, Sniper, truly I am.”

Medic resisted the urge to console him further. To tell him that if things were different, perhaps he would have considered. He would have, but ultimately the answer would have been the same. This was for the best. Even if Sniper’s dejected expression made him want to rip his own heart out and give it to the other man, literally.

Sniper sighed, giving Medic a nod. “Yeah doc. I get it. Sorry for bothering you.”

Medic tried to say something, but Sniper tipped his hat in thanks with his freshly healed hand, and walked out of the infirmary, long legs moving briskly. 

Sniper didn’t stop walking until he made it back to his room. Spy was long gone, the only thing left of him was the lingering scent of cigarettes. In the privacy of his room, Sniper removed his hat and threw it on his night stand, stripping out of his clothes but not bothering with his aviators as he fell face first into bed. His glasses pressed awkwardly into his face and threatened to snap but Sniper ignored them, holding his pillow to himself tightly. 

He should’ve known. Medic would never go out with a loser like him, dying or not. Spy must have been making up that shite to get him to grow a pair, the bloody spook. 

With a groan, Sniper buried his face deeper into the pillow, ignoring the creak of his glasses, and tried to will his chest to stop hurting.

In the infirmary, Medic shook his head, as if doing so would get the picture of a heartbroken Sniper out of it. Medic knew he had trouble reading the atmosphere, but there was no denying how much his rejection hurt Sniper. 

Archimedes cooed again, and Medic rubbed his face tiredly with his hand, his glasses going askew. 

“I know Archimedes, but this is for the best.”

The silence that followed didn’t agree with him.

If only. If only Medic was a different man, a better man, he could be happy Sniper returned his affection. But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to. 

This was for the best, he kept telling himself, but every time he said it, he believed it less and less. 

Sniper was a good man. Kind of awkward and reserved, but had patience Medic didn’t and forgave the team for a lot of their quirks that clashed with his. He genuinely cared for them, albeit silently, and was willing to go out of his way to give them a helping hand.

Medic was a selfish man, using people to get what he wanted no matter the cost. He had bloodlust for days and a very short temper. 

Medic didn’t deserve a man like Sniper. He’d only taint him. And he’d never forgive himself if he did. So holding him at arm's length was best, where he couldn’t damage him. Where he couldn’t get close enough to hurt when he lost him.

With a deep breath to compose himself, he went back to his lab to coax Pyro out without them burning anything. And perhaps...perhaps after he found a cure he’d make it up to Sniper. He’d show him that he cared, but tell him just why it was a bad idea to get close to him. He owed it to the man.

Yes, he thought determined. He had work to do. 

**Author's Note:**

> of course i used all the simple german thats in the game because what is languages. so yeah  
> ja: yes  
> Nein: no  
> Mein gott: my god  
> danke: thanks  
> Scheiße: shit
> 
> also i was going to write in the accents but australian accents will be the death of me, so i didnt. 
> 
> also i dont know how color blindness works, forgive me.


End file.
